A Butterfly Closure Will Hold It, Right?

So, last Thursday, I was outside doing my farm girl routine...you know, the one with the twist, turn, sway to the right, sway to the left...oh..wait.  Wrong routine. The other one....toting water buckets and feeding animals.  Right. 
I was feeding and watering.  And right before I carried the full water buckets, I thought to myself that the chickens in the mobile pen sure could use a nice new spot of land to peck around on.  So, I grab a hold of one corner...and Yank!  And then I grab a a hold of the other corner...and ... SLICE!
OH.MY.GAH.  My hand slipped and my thumb slid down the length of the edge of the tin and it sliced through my finger.  I took one look and thought, dang....this might need a bandaid....or two.  I run in the house and yell for one of the kids to get me a washcloth...and then I venture a look.  EW.  It was gaping open...and relatively deep. DANG IT.  I get my daughter to call the closest person...my mother-in-law and she comes down to have a look see.  She says ...that might need stitches.  And I was kinda thinking maybe, BUT I had class that night.  (because I'm going back to school full time to finish my degree...still homeschooling, though)  And I didn't want to miss class because I needed to miss a night in March... so, I was thinking, What the heck... we can put a butterfly closure thing on it and it'll hold it together probably.  Yeah.
I called my personal nurse (love my nurse friends) and asked her opinion. She said I probably needed a tetanus shot.  Seriously?  I mean the tin wasn't rusty.  Apparently, that doesn't matter.  DANG again.
So, I decide to go to class and go by Urgent Care afterwards...just to see.  Only I'm walking into school and the wound pops open and now I have blood dripping off my fingers.  And for some reason, people give me weird looks for this.  And a lady asks me if I need stitches.  As if...  So, I meet up with my Professor and tell her I might need to go have my thumb looked at...which she urges with much passion...  LOL... and I go to Urgent Care.  Turns out, I needed four stitches and a tetanus shot.  The nurse looks at my finger and says, "Did you *really* think that butterfly was going to hold it?"  Well....yeah?

Projectile Vomit in a Moving, er Non-Moving Vehicle

We had a homeschool trip planned today for the Discovery Place in Charlotte to see the Mummy Exhibit.  To begin with, we had to MEET the other homeschoolers at 7:30 *am*...which totally messed up my beauty sleep, but I managed ...and was even on time.
Ahhhh...  we saw the sun creeping over the horizon...  saw the front end of that big rig right in front of me....WAIT!  dang sun was right IN my eyes....see!!!  *THAT* is why people should stay in bed until the sun is at an acceptable, SAFE sky level.  DANG.
At any rate, we are making good progress..our long caravan of homeschooling mommas... until we get to I-77.  The traffic was backed up for several miles in both lanes.  Around the time that we are sitting in said traffic, a voice pipes up from the back..."Mom...I feel really sick."  I look in the rear view and sure enough, there's a pale, sickly face grimacing back at me.  OH.FREAKIN.NO.  So, I attempt to maintain my composure in the face of this impending disaster and say, "I'll roll down a window...get a drink of your gatorade...everything will be fine." 
And then.....
Let me stop you for a second.  Have you ever seen the movie The Exorcist?  You know the green projectile vomit scene?

 

Yeah.  That one.  There ya go...see it in your mind's eye.  Now, look in the rear view mirror with me.  Yes.  You saw it, too.
To my utter horror, in the mirror, I see my son cough, hurl, spew green vomit...in a projectile fashion.  My insides rolled over and played dead.  And then to further my horror, it was as though someone hit instant replay three or four more times.  Child #2 (names have been omitted to protect identity of the spewer) who is sitting beside the hurler raises his hands to plead with me, and with an absolute look of panic on his face, says most fiercely, "MOM!  PULL OVER!!  MOM!!! GET *OFF* THE ROAD!!"  Poor thing.  But, we are in the left lane.  And the right lane is backed up.  There's no way for me to get off the road.  And no exit for at least a mile.  And then child #3 who was sitting in front of the hurler, throws herself between the two front seats, gagging incessantly, saying, "MOM!!!  HE THREW UP ON MY SHIRT!!"  (you have to know as I write this, I am laughing so hard..  it was insane...truly)  and child #3 just doesn't say it once...she's repeating it...while whimpering...crying...panicking. In the meantime...
About the time hurler projected vomit the second time, I was in great fear of losing the battle with my cappuccino that was forcing its way up my esophagus.  I rolled down my window...hung my head out like Jim Carrey....



And child #2 and child #3 are getting louder and louder... only, I can't focus because of the smell of puke... and I'm fighting down the urge...and trying to swallow it down far enough to answer them and tell them for the LOVE of heaven...PLEASE shut up!!! Mommy is about to toss her cookies!  By the way, I don't say shut up to my kids....just one of my pet peeves.  HOWEVER....with hurler hurling, child #2 still pleading with me to pull off the road, child #3 on my ARM screaming, "he puked on me!!!!!!!!"  (i have NO idea what child #4 was doing)  and traffic at a near stand still, I mustered up enough puke free saliva to say, "SHUT UP!  stop talking!  I want to get off this road just as badly as you do!!"  (who are we kidding...we BOTH know I wanted off that freaking road about a gazillion times worse than they did)
I finally got to an exit. ..  drove to Walgreens and we emptied out of the vomit comet.  MERCIFUL HEAVENS.  I take one look at everyone and laugh.  and laugh. and laugh.  And then I go to the bathroom and puke my cappuccino.  And try to wash puke asteroids off the back of child #3's shirt....who is, by the way...still crying.  Of course, I have to give the kid kudos.  There is NO way in HADES that someone could have hurled on the back of my shirt without me puking up every last cell in my body.  And there is NO way that I could have been child #2 and not completely lost it sitting beside the hurler.  OH.MY.GAH.
I bought pine sol, lysol, and armed myself with as big a wad of bathroom paper towels as I could carry out without looking like I was trying to pad my sidewalk cardboard box home for a good night's sleep.  I got out to the car and turned to child #2 and said, "I'm gonna need more towels."
I scrubbed.  and scrubbed.  and gagged.  and scrubbed.  and then gagged some more.  and sprayed lysol.  LOTS of lysol.  and maybe used the entire roll of paper towels in the bathroom.  Thank you, Walgreens. 
And then I drove to Target and bought child #3 a new shirt.  And I bought myself some wine.  not really.  not that I didn't need it, but...  I have found that I'm scary enough sober.  :)
And we got back in the car....I found the Discovery Place with no GPS...thank you to the kind man at the red light. ...and we went in and viewed the mummies.  because puke don't stop us, baby.  well, not for long, anyway....

p.s.  although I am right handed, I had to scrub the puke with my left hand.  you wanna know why?  gross post #2 to follow... don't say i didn't warn you.